Philosophy

Just like every other Jewish holiday, Rosh Hashanah (Hebrew; lit. “head of the year”) is fraught with extra-special everything. Actions, prayers, traditions, food, and of course, symbolism.

so much symbolism…

Except, it’s different from every other Jewish holiday. Mostly because it’s the start of another year. So – take all the excitement of the secular New Year, add a heaping pile of religion, and make sure there are 2 additional equally important and significant holidays that occur around the same time….
Et Viola – the Jewish New Year.

News feeds and inboxes are filled with updated family pictures, personal reflections and introspection on the past year, and general good will towards friends and family for the coming year. Many individuals also discuss their menus, and include pictures of said food. This was happening way before Pintrest and Instagram made it a thing. Because we are trend-setters. Or something.
Some traditional foods included in some way, shape, or form during this holiday are:

Honey: for a sweet year
Apples: because Fall and harvest (and probably a more spiritual reason which I’m blanking on)
Pomegranates: legend says that this fruit contains 613 seeds, which is equal to the number of positive and negative commandments in the Torah. I don’t think this has been proven because I don’t know anyone who has actually counted them.
Carrots: because the word for carrot in Yiddish sounds like something that sounds like money. Also in Yiddish.
Lettuce, half a raisin, celery: because Dad Jokes and Puns

*groan*

This two-day holiday (which sometimes transforms into a 3-day extravaganza, but more about that headache another time) is also different because unlike other Jewish holidays, there is no story involved with the celebration. It’s just a date on the calendar.
To summarize: this is a major holiday that starts our lives anew, doesn’t revolve around a story, and contains a lot more prayer and ritual. Also, due to the proximity of Yom Kippur, there is quite a bit of early-bird-style repentance involving charity and resolutions.

Because that’s the kind of people we are this week.

I kid – there is actually a lot of sincerity going around. And although that is really not a bad thing, it is quite scary when you really think about it. But I don’t want to get into that, because I have to get another batch of cookies from the oven. Also, because it will detract from the main point I’m trying to make (maybe next time I shouldn’t type in 10-minute bursts…)

It is true what has been said, that although holidays and seasons repeat themselves, we are not the same people each time; and, therefore, there are inherently different feelings surrounding each holiday. Especially for me, because so many important events in my life seem to revolve around this holiday…

12 years ago: It was the first holiday I celebrated in Israel. Like every holiday in every religion, Rosh Hashanah is family-oriented. Immediate, extended, and pseudo-families get together and eat way too much food during this two-day holiday. Being the representation of new beginnings, it was very appropriate that this was the first holiday I celebrated in my new home, with family that I had not seen in at least a decade.

8 years ago: It was the last holiday I celebrated with my family in Chicago before getting married. Which is a pretty big deal every possible way you slice it.

5 years ago: I first found out about Nooshkin. She was the size of my thumbnail. I couldn’t eat any of the symbolic food (curse you first-trimester nausea). I had never been happier.

And, this year: It is the first holiday without Nana.

Every year, a week before the holiday actually started, Nana would go to the butcher and buy fresh fish heads – haddock, carp, whatever they had – take them back to her apartment and begin a three-day exercise in love and family. Yes – she made enough fresh gefilte fish for her entire family. All [insert ever-increasing number here] of us. Every year one of us would be the designated delivery person, and our car stank of fish afterwards. That tradition was one of the best parts of the holiday.

But no – I did not make her gefilte fish this year. I probably won’t make it ever because I can’t stand fish heads. Slimy, scaly – guh. *shudder*
But – I still remember the texture and taste of them. And I probably always will.

There’s more that I wanted to write, but it’s almost time for the holiday to begin. So instead I will leave you with this:

May the memories of past years, both positive and not-so-positive, influence your choices for the coming year.
If you decide to set goals* and resolutions for yourself, may they be easily attainable.
Breathe Deep, and Seek Peace.
See you next year.

1) Mix together oil, sugar, eggs, honey, baking soda, salt and vanilla.
2) Add the flour, and mix until it is just incorporated.
3) Shape the cookies into balls, between 3/4 to 1 inch in diameter.
–Because the dough is super sticky, I recommend keeping it cool to make forming the balls easier. You will also probably need to rinse your hands between batches.–
4) Place on parchment-lined cookie sheets.
5) Bake in oven on 375 F (180 C) for 8-12 minutes, depending on the strength of your oven. The cookies should be crackly in the center and nicely browned around the edges.

Currently Grooving On: The Fountainheads “Dip Your Apple” (because as far as parodies go, this is the best)

*I have a decent list of goals and resolutions for myself for the coming year. I will share them because I am following the advice of a good friend (which is “if you tell people about it, then you have to actually follow through”).

Be More Selfish
In the past year I quit my job, started school, and created this blog – for myself. I had not really done that before, and it felt really good. Empowering. Amazing. I want to do more of that. In line with this goal is to take better care of myself mentally and physically.

Utilize and Maximize My Networks
I decided earlier this year to be more vocal in all my networks, and I got my current job because of that. Each one can be beneficial if used properly, so let’s keep up the momentum, shall we?

Make Good Art
On the good days, and the bad days. When there is nothing to say, and (especially) when there is too much. Be creative. Get messy. Make mistakes. And in line with that…

Get Something Published
I’ve got some things in the works. Several things, actually. Okay fine – four things. There, I said it – I have four creative writing things floating around my head, with bits and pieces down on paper (or Google Docs, because technology). And I’m sure there is more where that came from, and I want to get something done.

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Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore –
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over –
Like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
Like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?
– Langston Hughes

My sophomore year of high school we read the play “A Raisin in the Sun” by Lorraine Hansberry, inspired by the above poem (which we, naturally, also analyzed). For a group of white, middle-class, Jewish teenagers, it was difficult to understand the many layers of meaning in both the poem and the play.
I remember many of us were confused about what this can do to a person. At that point in our lives I don’t think anyone had been in a situation where we needed to choose one path over another; up to that point (and for another three years after it) our paths were pretty much predetermined. I doubt any of us had really pushed off a dream because it was, at the time, unattainable. Few of us really understood the message.

Now, it comes easy. I guess time is the true teacher, and experience the provider of meaning.

After the second interview I really tried not to think about what had happened. But of course, I had to provide updates to those who knew about the saga. So I kind of became anti-social just so I wouldn’t have to deal with it. And when I was social I didn’t really behave properly.
Hence, the apology at the beginning of my previous post.

To choose one dream over another is not something that I wish on anyone. How can someone consciously say that dream “A” is better/more important than dream “B”? And, what happens to the dreams that are pushed off? Will they ever come back? Langston Hughes didn’t address that question in his poem – he just spoke about the physical qualities of the dream itself. What the dream manifests as if it is postponed.

He didn’t discuss the mental anguish of deferring a dream. He didn’t talk about the human agony of making that decision.

My dream did all of the things Langston Hughes listed in his poem – it dried up, it festered, it sagged, it exploded. Sometimes all in one day.

A question that I repeatedly asked myself this past month, often with nascent tears in my eyes, was how can I choose between two dreams that provide me with joy, and happiness, and a sense of fulfillment?

On the one hand, taking this job would mean that my career is set. I will have achieved the pinnacle of my goals and I would have legitimate job security for a good decade.
On the other hand, taking this job would mean that I would need to quit school. I would need to push off any other children that I may want to have. My job would always come first, which means that Hubby’s would suffer. Hubby would need to pull more weight around the house too

But, if I didn’t take this job – I could still have kids. Hubby and I would continue to share the housework, not to mention see each other on a fairly regular basis. And I could continue my degree, which means exposing myself to other people and opportunities in the music/theater world. The other day, while I was giving a presentation, I was complimented on my knowledge of the topic, my delivery and presence by Ronit Seter – which, for those of you not in the musical world, is like Sammy Sosa complimenting you on your batting follow-through.

I may have fangirled a little bit.

But, on the other hand, if I didn’t take the job who knows when the next opportunity would arise? I was told during the interviews that there isn’t a lot of turnover in this field, because people tend to stick around for a long time. Five years is a generous minimum time commitment. Would other positions at the Tel Aviv Opera House (or other Performing Art Centers) have similar requirements and commitments?

All these questions and emotions are moot, though. Because I still haven’t heard back from them.

I have resigned myself to the belief that, right now, this job is not meant for me. And I am okay with that. I contacted the Opera House in the past when something came my way; each time, I pushed myself further and took additional steps to making the phone call, and applying for the job, and getting the interview.

I still stand by what I said previously – maybe I just needed to know what my dream entailed, so I could make a wiser decision if and when presented with this opportunity in the future.

I still believe, that sometimes we are presented with different choices and opportunities, and it’s up to us to decide to pursue it. But, sometimes those opportunities and choices appear when we aren’t ready for it. We’re either too young, or too old; too religious, or too secular; employed, or unemployed; single or married; with kids or without kids. Occasionally, we don’t even realize the opportunity when it’s staring us right in the face. Only with hindsight, when it is too late to decide anything.

I still believe, that I will recognize similar opportunities when they present themselves to me. And that I will continue to seek out these opportunities because they are important to me.

So I still believe, regardless of the state of life we find ourselves in, that following dreams requires faith, and guts, and determination, and support, and a little bit of crazy. Very rarely do dream opportunities present themselves at opportune times.

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I’ve been thinking a lot about destiny lately. Mostly about how it creeps up on you at the absolute worst possible time like a ton of bricks, usually with a ton of bricks in hand.

But, sometimes, destiny surprises you way after the fact, with one of those “Ha ha! I told you so!” moments.

Except, not that ugly looking.

And you kind of replay every moment that led up to the one you currently find yourself in, and wonder what it would have been like had destiny taken you down another path.
But then, you remind yourself, that you are the one in control of your life, and destiny is this figment of our collective imaginations. Probably created by someone a long time ago who was unable to commit to the choices that he made, or admit that he made them himself.

Also, destiny can’t lead us anywhere because it’s blind. That would be kind of disastrous.

Not sorry, at all.

I’ve had a lot of time lately to think about destiny, and how it drives us to make certain choices in our lives. From things as small as which bus we take and when we do our grocery shopping, to big things like where to go to school or when to have kids. Any one of those situations can introduce you to someone, or an idea, or something that you would not otherwise have met, or thought of, or experienced had you made a different choice.

In the Sandman graphic novel series, Neil Gaiman explains it best:

The paths fork and divide. With each step you take through Destiny’s garden, you make a choice; and every choice determines future paths. However, at the end of a lifetime of walking you might look back, and see only one path stretching out behind you; or look ahead, and see only darkness.

What Neil doesn’t say, is that sometimes when you look back, you can see hints of the other paths that “might-have-been”. Sometimes, there are points in our lives where it was so blatantly obvious that we had a choice to make, that we forever look back to that moment and wonder – “What if?”

I find myself doing that a lot lately.

About three weeks ago I found myself drawn to something posted on the bulletin board outside the music secretary’s office on campus. It was a job opportunity; it had the logo of the Tel-Aviv Opera House on it in the upper-right corner.

That was all that mattered.

I took down the contact information and ran home – too afraid to actually call the guy and ask about this. But, a few days later, I mentioned it to the Hubby and he said do it. More like, DO IT!!!!! But you get the idea.

So I did it. Twice – yes, I was invited back for a second interview. No, my gag reflex did not fail me either time, although my stomach has been doing complex somersaults ever since I saw the job opp. I have also not really been able to focus on the myriad other things that I must needs do right now, because this has been weighing on me constantly.

This job opp is the pinnacle of what I consider my dream job, no superlatives necessary. I would be working in the music library, responsible for caring and organizing and preparing the sheet music for every single operatic and symphonic performance. Of which there are *counting* anywhere between 15 and 20 per year.
I would be working long hours, longer weeks, and would really only get a few moments between performances to collect myself.

But, in all honesty, I would scrub the floor with a toothbrush as long as my pay stub said “Tel-Aviv Opera House” on it.

Wow, there are stock photos of everything these days.

I’m totally not kidding – I’ve said this enough times to realize that it’s the honest truth.

I guess that was when I realized I really wanted to work there – because if you repeat something often enough, it becomes truth. Working there would be the dream. And that dream kept reasserting itself. And the dream that keeps coming back is, above all else, your destiny.

This job would mean incomparable, inconceivable, unadulterated happiness for me. It would also mean that life as I, the Hubby, and Nooshkin know it would change forever.
So – all the melodrama and stress is definitely warranted. As is the desire for an adultier adult to make this decision for me.

Nearly everyone I’ve spoken to about this job opp has said I should accept it (if given the chance). They know me well, they’ve heard me talk about this forever; and, let’s be honest – dreams don’t often present themselves so obviously.
This is my hobby, my degree, my passion, my muse.

Paths change, options appear, choices present themselves all the time. This month so many people I know are quitting work, or moving, or getting married, or applying for their next degree. In LAK’s case, it’s all of the above (she’s a little nuts like that).

It’s only been four-and-a-half months since I made the choice to quit my job. It feels like a lot longer. So much has happened since then, and mostly for the good, that I know it was the right choice. But, still.

The thought occurred to me that I was meant to know about this job. Regardless of whether or not I end up getting it, I was meant to know right now – smack in the middle of all else that is happening right now – that there are possibilities like this out there. That there are many other paths available in front of me, regardless of how far they end up taking me before I am presented with other choices or, worse yet, backtrack to where I started.

I know that if I hadn’t quit I would not know that this job opp even existed. And I would not be having these questions, and doubts, and sleepless nights. My path would be set, and straight, for a little while longer.

But I am holding on tight to the possibility that this job opp is neither for the good, nor the bad – but for the neutral. That right now I’m only meant to be presented with a crossroad, instead of a straight line. That perhaps I will end up continuing down the same path that I had been on two weeks ago.

Maybe I’m only meant to know that it exists. And, rather surprisingly, that comforts me immensely.

Regardless of what happens within the next two weeks, I have to trust myself that the choice I make will be the right one. Otherwise I end up with regret, and I cannot afford to regret the decisions that I make. Living a life with regrets means that there was nothing good in any choice that I made – which is obviously not true. All choices, all decisions, can have a positive outlook – but only if you are open to the possibility that not everything is terrible, or horrible, or no good, or very bad.

Even in Australia.

I guess that means I am the adultier adult, and that I’m capable of making this choice.